To call it a pull or a tug, as some people do, just doesn’t do justice to this feeling welling up inside me, threatening to explode. Or implode. I’m not sure which. I can barely talk with this lump in my throat as I walk slowly next to my best friend, trying to process everything. It’s the feeling of the inevitable, a 10,000 ton train barreling toward me and its brakes are out. I tell myself that I’m thinking about it. Praying about it. Weighing the pros and cons. But if I’m truly honest with myself, beneath the surface of rationalization, I know the decision has already been made. If I ever had a choice.

I am crying now because I’m already grieving the life I am giving up. Because this is illogical and irresponsible and I have a strong drive to avoid both of those anxiety-inducing adjectives. Because I feel inadequate to face what is to come. Because I am scared. And because I’m overwhelmed with the knowledge that God is speaking to me. Directly. Clearly. Intentionally. Me. It’s not that I’ve never heard His voice before, but it’s not altogether common and this level of clarity is rare for me, especially in recent memory.

I know I’ll remember this moment forever, the way I remember travelling home after earnestly listening for Him in Taize , France , an utterly spiritual place, and feeling like I had failed. And when I stopped trying, when I was lying on the floor of the airport He spoke to me.

It was unmistakable then: Like the rich young ruler, following My commands since childhood is not enough, there is one thing you lack. It is not your wealth and possessions, however, that you need to give up, but your achievements and accomplishments which have led to pride in yourself, not in Me, and reliance on yourself, not on Me. It had brought me to tears.

And it is unmistakable now: Leave your family, your grandma, your closest friends, your job, the promotion you’ve been promised, and your mortgage. Come with me to Haiti . Indefinitely. It has brought me to tears.